“Wow, Marina! This place seems absolutely amazing!” Anya exclaimed as they reviewed pictures of the new restaurant on her phone.
“And you mentioned you’ve reserved a table already?”
“Yes, for seven o’clock in the evening,” Anya responded, unable to mask her excitement. “Five years of marriage deserves a special celebration!”
“Does Slavik know about this?”
“Definitely! I informed him last week, and we agreed to meet there after his work,” she playfully tossed a rebellious strand of hair. “I want everything to turn out perfectly. I even bought a new dress!”
Marina smiled, observing her friend:
- “You’ll be irresistible! Slavik will be mesmerized by you!”
“I certainly hope so…” Anya sighed, feeling the weight of recent months. “Everything’s been so stressful—work, home, and never-ending chores. It seems like we hardly communicate anymore. Everything feels rushed and hurried.”
“Tonight will definitely change that,” Marina reassured her. “A romantic dinner, just the two of you…”
“What’s critical is that nothing unexpected comes up,” Anya said, closing the restaurant app. “Especially not from Irina Georgievna.”
“The mother-in-law again?” Marina rolled her eyes.
“Who else?” Anya shook her head. “You have no idea how her calls constantly drive me up the wall. One minute it’s fixing a faucet, the next, rearranging furniture, and it’s always urgent—only Slavik can handle it.”
“And he?”
“What can I say? He drops everything to go. His mom asks,” Anya said with a hint of bitterness. “But tonight is just for us. I insisted he switch off his phone once he arrives at the restaurant.”
Marina comforted her with a hug:
“Everything will go smoothly. Just savor your evening.”
The day of the anniversary began chaotically. At work, Anya suddenly faced urgent issues with a report that required immediate amendments. With her boss breathing down her neck, the clock was ticking toward six with no resolution in sight.
“Oleg Ivanovich, I can’t stay late today,” Anya urged, glancing at the clock. “It’s our wedding anniversary, and I have a reservation!”
He scoffed in response:
“Fine, finish it tomorrow morning. I want that report on my desk by ten o’clock!”
With a sigh of relief, Anya hurriedly gathered her things and rushed to the salon where they were awaiting her arrival. Makeup and hair—everything had to be impeccable. As she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, she envisioned Slavik’s admiration for her beauty.
Once leaving the salon, she called her husband:
“Slavik, I got delayed at work and in the salon. I’ll reach the restaurant in about twenty minutes. Are you on your way?”
“Yes, I’m nearly there,” his voice sounded off, but Anya attributed it to a bad connection.
“Fantastic! I’ll be there soon,” she rushed to grab a taxi.
On her way to the restaurant, Anya mentally rehearsed the evening’s agenda. Dinner would come first, then gifts, followed by a surprise cake adorned with candles and their wedding photo. She smiled at the thought of Slavik’s reaction.
Arriving at the restaurant’s entrance, Anya inhaled deeply, adjusted her dress, and stepped inside. The receptionist guided her to the reserved table.
As she looked around, her heart sank. There sat Slavik, and beside him, grinning widely, was none other than Irina Georgievna.
Anya felt as though she was crumbling. Five years of marriage, and Slavik still didn’t perceive the significance of those special moments that belonged solely to them. Steeling herself, she proceeded to the table.
“Ah, finally!” Irina exclaimed as though she had been awaiting Anya’s arrival all along. “Slavochka and I have already ordered a drink. Please, join us!”
Slavik offered an apologetic smile:
“Hi Anya, you look stunning tonight.”
Silently, Anya took her seat as the festive atmosphere faded with each ticking second.
“You wouldn’t believe how the evening unfolded,” Irina chattered away. “Slavik came by to pick up the microwave they delivered to me, and then I remembered that today marks your anniversary! Five years is significant—how could we not celebrate? So I asked for a ride to the restaurant. He couldn’t refuse his mother, of course!”
Anya glanced at her husband who was fixated on the menu, deliberately averting his gaze.
“Of course, he couldn’t,” she replied coldly. “When has Slavik ever turned you down, Irina Georgievna?”
The mother-in-law was oblivious to her sarcasm:
“Exactly! A proper son, unlike some. My neighbor, Zinaida Petrovna, hasn’t got her son to help with a shelf for weeks now. He’s perpetually too preoccupied, you know.”
As Anya read the menu, frantically brainstorming on how to salvage the evening, perhaps she could suggest they be moved to a different table? But Irina would certainly cause a scene. What if she hinted to Slavik to escort his mother home? But he likely wouldn’t catch on.
“I’ve already ordered some appetizers,” Irina continued. “I couldn’t wait as I was quite hungry. Hope you both agree?”
“Not a problem,” Anya replied through gritted teeth.
Finally looking up, Slavik asked:
“Anya, what would you like? I was thinking of ordering steak.”
“Steak?” Irina interrupted. “Why spend so much? With that cash, I could buy three kilos of good meat at the market and last a whole week! Young people just can’t budget properly.”
Anya felt her temper rise, yet she restrained herself:
“I believe I’ll opt for fish.”
“Absolutely,” Irina agreed. “Fish is healthier. Though I wouldn’t spend that much on fish either. Just last week perch at my little shop was on sale…”
She commenced a lengthy narrative about local fish prices. Anya caught the waiter’s eye and gave a slight nod, signaling she wanted to place her order. Anything to put an end to this never-ending monologue.
After the waiter finally took their orders, Irina Georgievna paused briefly to sip some water. Seizing the opportunity, Anya interjected:
“Slavik, remember the first time we dined at a restaurant five years ago?”
“Absolutely,” her husband beamed. “It was…”
“Oh, I recall when Slavochka had his first restaurant experience!” Irina interrupted. “He was eight, and his father and I took him to ‘Russian Court’ for his birthday. He spilled soup all over his brand-new suit…”
And it continued like this for ages. Episodes upon episodes from Slavik’s childhood, an endless stream of memories that left no room for Anya. She sat there, nodding mechanically, feeling their anticipated evening devolving into another installment of “the mother-in-law’s performance.”
“Recall, Slavochka, when you were in school…”
That was the breaking point.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Irina Georgievna, but today we came here to celebrate our anniversary. Five years together.”
Irina pursed her lips:
“I’m completely aware of why we are here. I’m simply sharing interesting stories. Or aren’t you curious about Slavik’s childhood?”
“I am indeed interested,” Anya diplomatically replied. “However, today I’d prefer we discuss more about us and our future plans…”
“What plans?” Irina inquired suspiciously. “Slavochka, are you concealing something from me?”
Slavik, who had been quietly observing the tension, intervened quickly:
“No one is hiding anything, Mom. Anya and I merely intended to chat about our summer vacation plans.”
“Vacation?” Irina’s eyes widened. “What about the dacha? You promised to assist me with the fence!”
“I’ll have time to help with the fence and also vacation,” Slavik attempted to soothe her.
“Easy for you to say! And I’m the only one left dealing with that fence? At my age?”
Just then, the waiter delivered their dishes, offering a momentary reprieve from the mounting tension. Anya watched her husband stealthily fuss over his mother: pushing the bread basket closer, pouring her water, adjusting her napkin—all this out of long-held routine, completely oblivious to the fact that he was neglecting his wife.
“Try the fish, Mom, it’s delightful,” Slavik took a piece from his plate and placed it on Irina Georgievna’s dish.
“Is it? To me, it tastes over salted,” she frowned. “And the sauce is odd. When I prepare fish…”
Anya silently picked at her salad, striving to control her mounting frustration. She had envisioned this evening as a time for her and Slavik to reminisce about joyful moments, share aspirations, express their feelings—yet here she sat, bombarded with Irina’s endless discourse on cooking fish, laundry, and saving on utilities.
“Anya, why aren’t you eating?” Irina suddenly acknowledged her daughter-in-law. “Isn’t it to your taste? For that amount of money?”
“No, everything is fine,” Anya forced a smile. “Just lost in my thoughts.”
“About what?” the mother-in-law pressed on.
“About how swiftly time passes. Five years have elapsed since our wedding.”
“Indeed, time pulls no punches,” Irina grated. “I was just rifling through some photos when I stumbled upon candid from my wedding. Can you imagine? Thirty-seven years ago! And it feels like mere yesterday. I was so slim back then…”
Once again, the conversation drifted away from Anya and Slavik, drowning out their celebration and their relationship.
Anya discreetly pulled out her phone and texted Slavik: “Can we have a minute alone?”
Slavik read the message, regarded Anya with a puzzled expression, then nodded.
“Mom, we’ll be back shortly,” he rose.
“Where are you headed?” Irina asked suspiciously.
“Anya wishes to reveal… um… a painting in the lobby,” Slavik awkwardly lied.
“What painting?” his mother attempted to rise. “I want to see it too!”
“No, no, you stay,” Anya quickly said. “It won’t take long.”
They retreated to a distant corner of the hall where they could speak privately.
“Slavik, how could you do this?” Anya struggled to restrain her emotions. “Why would you bring your mother to our anniversary?”
He shrugged in a helpless manner:
“Anya, what was I supposed to do? She discovered we were dining out and insisted. Claimed she wanted to congratulate us as well. I could hardly say no to her.”
“Why couldn’t you? You’re an adult, Slavik! We agreed to share this evening solely with one another. I prepared, bought a new dress, reserved the salon…”
“You know how she is,” Slavik lowered his voice. “She would immediately sulk, claiming I abandoned her and that she’s all alone. You’re aware of that.”
“I am. I know you always indulge her whims. Always! Even on our special day, she takes precedence over me, over us!”
“That’s not fair,” Slavik frowned at her. “She’s my mother. She struggles alone since Dad… well, you know how it is. She needs some attention.”
“And what about me? Don’t I need it?” Tears brimmed in Anya’s eyes. “I’m your wife, Slavik. Don’t I deserve even one evening a year just for us?”
Her husband gazed helplessly at the table where Irina Georgievna was glaring at her watch.
“Let’s not bicker in the restaurant,” he implored. “We’ll manage this evening as three of us, and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“Make it up?” Anya scoffed bitterly. “How? With another devastated holiday?”
As they returned to the table, Irina Georgievna bombarded them with inquiries:
“What secrets are you hiding? Why can’t you speak in my presence?”
“No secrets, Mom,” Slavik replied wearily. “Anya simply wanted to ask about a gift for you, seeing that your birthday is coming up.”
The lie, meant to appease his mother, pained Anya further. Even when she openly expressed her feelings, he only concentrated on placating his mother.
“Really?” Irina’s tone softened considerably. “How thoughtful of you, Anya. I assumed…”
“What did you assume, Irina Georgievna?” Anya snapped.
“That you were unhappy with my attendance,” the mother-in-law stated plainly. “You always react this way when I visit or call Slavochka.”
“Why?” Anya decided to stop holding back. “I value your bond with Slavik. However, sometimes my husband and I desire privacy. Especially on a day like today.”
“So I’m imposing?” Irina straightened up, prepared for an argument. “I, who birthed and raised Slavochka, dedicated my life to him, am an encumbrance? And who are you? Only five years beside him and already acting bossy!”
At that moment, the atmosphere at their table was almost taut enough to snap. Anya saw Slavik shrink in his seat, terrified to intervene between the two most important women in his life.
“I am his wife,” Anya asserted. “Yes, we are married for five years. Throughout those years, I’ve never tried to come between you. I’ve never forbidden him from visiting, assisting, or spending time with you. I just request one thing—to respect our privacy and our holidays.”
“Exactly, right!” Irina snorted. “What secrets can there be from a mother? What kind of modern nonsense is this? We didn’t have such things back in my day. Family means everyone together!”
Family dynamics often become complicated when it comes to setting boundaries.
“Mom, please,” Slavik finally broke the silence. “Let’s refrain from creating a scene in the restaurant.”
“I’m the one causing scenes?” Irina was furious. “Your wife disrespects me! I come here of my own accord to celebrate, and they…”
Just then, the waiter approached their table with a cake adorned with lit candles. It bore the inscription “5 years of love” along with a small wedding photo of Anya and Slavik.
Silence settled uncomfortably over the table. Irina looked at the cake as if it were a detonator about to explode. Slavik glanced from the cake back to Anya, utterly lost on what to do. Anya felt the last vestiges of her patience dissipate.
“Anya, did you specifically order this?” Slavik asked quietly, gazing at it. “It’s truly beautiful…”
“Beautiful?” Anya scoffed. “I believed beautiful meant that a husband remembers the anniversary and spends it with his wife, not drags his mother along.”
“I didn’t force myself to come!” Irina retorted. “Slavochka proposed it himself!”
Taking a sharp breath, Anya directed her gaze back at Slavik:
“Is that accurate, Slavik? Did you suggest your mother join us for our anniversary?”
Slavik looked trapped.
“No, not exactly… I stopped by to grab her microwave, and she remembered the anniversary, indicating she wanted to celebrate with us. I found it difficult to refuse her.”
“Naturally, you couldn’t,” Anya replied bitterly. “You never can deny her anything, even if it means sabotaging our celebration.”
She rose, grabbing her purse with determination:
“Then enjoy your dinner with your mother. I’m heading home. Enjoy the cake.”
“Anya, please wait!” Slavik implored, trying to restrain her, but she was already on her way to the exit.
“Ungrateful!” Irina exclaimed after her. “Slavochka, don’t chase after her, let her cool off!”
But Anya didn’t turn back. She exited the restaurant, hailing a taxi. Tears were ready to spill, yet she withheld them. Not now, nor for this.
In the taxi, her phone buzzed with a message from Slavik: “Anya, kindly return. Mom is upset. We’re awaiting you.”
That was the tipping point. “Mom is upset!” And what about her feelings? Did Slavik truly not perceive how profoundly he had wounded her?
Once home, Anya rapidly packed a small bag. She couldn’t remain there that night, didn’t want to see Slavik upon his return. She called another taxi and headed to Marina’s.
When her friend spotted Anya’s tear-streaked face upon opening the door, she wordlessly understood the gravity of the situation:
“What did that fool do?”
“He invited his mother to our anniversary,” Anya finally wept, allowing her emotions to surface freely. “Can you fathom it? Five years together, and he couldn’t spare me even a single evening without her presence!”
Marina enveloped her friend in a comforting hug:
“Come inside. I’ll prepare some tea, and you can tell me everything.”
Later that evening, Anya poured her heart out, explaining how their relationship with Slavik had shifted over the past five years, how gradually his mother had started to envelop their lives, how he could never deny her even the smallest request.
“I never opposed their connection,” she confided, wiping her tears. “In fact, I consistently encouraged him when he went to assist his mom. But doesn’t he grasp that at times, we need moments solely for ourselves?”
“He’s a mother’s boy,” Marina bluntly articulated. “He’ll remain one until you assert yourself.”
“Do you believe I should?” Anya expressed uncertainty. “What if he favors her over me?”
“If that’s the case, so be it,” Marina shrugged. “Better to realize now than endure a lifetime of suffering.”
All night, Anya’s phone buzzed with texts and missed calls, yet she chose not to respond. She needed time to collect her thoughts and map out her next steps. One thing was clear—this situation was unsustainable.
The following day, Slavik arrived at Marina’s. Anya agreed to meet him, but only outside—she wasn’t ready for an extensive chat.
“Anya, forgive me,” Slavik initiated as they sat alone on a bench outside. “I never imagined you’d be this distressed.”
“You didn’t?” Anya met his gaze directly. “Slavik, we anticipated this evening. I reminded you about it for an entire week. I bought a new dress, arranged my hair. And you truly thought seeing your mother at our table wouldn’t upset me?”
“I found myself in an awkward position,” he held his hands up. “Mom was elated when she learned about the restaurant. She mentioned she hadn’t been out in a long time and that she felt lonely…”
“And you concluded that her loneliness was more critical than our celebration,” Anya reiterated. “As has become a habit.”
“That’s not fair!” Slavik protested. “I merely sought to make everyone happy.”
“Everyone?” Anya replied with bitterness. “Was I content? Do you think? When your mother interrupted me, criticized the meals, recounted endless childhood tales, and labeled me selfish?”
Slavik hung his head:
“I recognize she can be complex. But she is an elderly woman, living in solitude. It’s a challenge for her.”
“And what about us? Isn’t it a challenge when she interferes in every aspect? When you abandon everything for her at the first request? When she shows up unexpectedly and lingers the whole day?”
Anya inhaled deeply and continued, more calmly now:
“Slavik, I’m not requesting you to cut ties with your mother. I’m requesting proper boundaries. You’re an adult, you have your own family, and your own existence. Your mother should respect that.”
“She simply isn’t accustomed to it,” Slavik endeavored to rationalize. “For her, family signifies being together always.”
“And are you prepared to live that way your entire life?” Anya confronted him. “Because I am not. I can’t and will not remain shrouded by your mother for another five years. If you cannot establish boundaries, I will.”
“What do you mean?” Slavik looked anxious.
“I want us to create our own life, Slavik. For our holidays to be genuinely ours. I want your mother to learn to honor our time. If you cannot convey that to her, if her wishes will forever come before mine—we need to urgently contemplate our future.”
Slavik’s complexion paled:
“Are you threatening to leave me?”
“No,” Anya shook her head. “I’m simply stating that I refuse to remain in your mother’s shadow for another five years. I’m weary of competing for your attention, weary of feeling like an outsider in my own family.”
They sank into an uneasy silence, observing the children playing nearby, each preoccupied with their thoughts.
“I will talk to her,” Slavik finally declared. “I’ll clarify that we require more personal time.”
“You promised that after last New Year,” Anya reminded him, “and after my birthday. Yet nothing changed.”
“This time I mean it,” Slavik held her hand. “Afford me one more chance, Anya. I shall demonstrate that you are more significant to me than anyone else.”
Anya yearned to believe him. She genuinely wanted to. Yet years of disappointment had instilled a sense of caution within her.
“Fine,” she gently withdrew her hand. “But this time I expect tangible actions, not empty promises.”
“I will rectify everything,” Slavik assured her. “When do you plan to return home?”
“Tomorrow,” Anya responded. “I need a bit more time.”
Weeks sped by. Anya returned home, yet the unease between her and Slavik hung heavy in the air. Their conversations were polite, discussions remained about household matters, but the topic of Irina Georgievna was off-limits. Slavik visited his mother regularly, yet Anya refrained from asking if he’d confronted her regarding their concerns. She awaited actions over words.
On Friday evening, Slavik arrived home earlier than usual.
“Get ready,” he announced as he entered. “I’ve made a reservation for seven.”
“A reservation?” Anya was taken aback. “Where?”
“At ‘White Garden.’ It’s a new restaurant on the waterfront. I’ve heard their cuisine is exceptional,” Slavik smiled. “I thought we deserved a redo of our anniversary. Just you and me.”
Anya could not conceal her delight:
“Really? What about…”
“Mom?” Slavik completed her thought. “I advised her this evening is significant solely for us two. And moving forward, it shall be that way on special occasions.”
“How did she react?” Anya held her breath anxiously.
“Naturally, she wasn’t thrilled,” Slavik confessed honestly. “She remarked that I’m an ungrateful son and that you’re attempting to turn me against her. But I stood firm. I told her I love her, yet we require our own space.”
Anya embraced her husband:
“Thank you. That carries immense weight for me.”
“I know,” he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “You were correct. I allowed my mom to meddle in our lives for too long. But now everything will shift. I promise.”
“It won’t be simple,” Anya cautioned. “She won’t relinquish her hold so easily.”
“I’m prepared,” Slavik replied with certainty. “You are my wife; we are family. I will defend our happiness.”
At the ‘White Garden’ restaurant, it was warm and intimate. Dimmed lights, live music, and exquisite cuisine combined to create a unique ambiance. They chatted, recalling joyous moments from their past, contemplating the future. This was precisely the evening Anya had fantasized about.
When dessert arrived, Slavik retrieved a small box from his pocket.
“What’s this?” Anya inquired.
“Open it,” he grinned.
Inside was a delicate bracelet adorned with a tiny heart pendant. The date of their wedding was inscribed on the heart.
“It’s stunning,” Anya murmured, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I had intended to present it to you at the restaurant during our anniversary,” Slavik admitted. “But everything derailed.”
Just then, his phone rang. Slavik glanced at the screen—it was his mother calling. Looking between Anya and the phone, he hit the “decline” button.
“Now is our moment,” he proclaimed, covering Anya’s hand with his. “Mom can wait until tomorrow.”
It was a small gesture, yet it meant more to Anya than all the words and promises combined. For the first time in ages, she felt significant in her husband’s life.
The following Sunday, they visited Irina Georgievna for lunch. The atmosphere was somewhat strained. The mother-in-law purposefully addressed only her son, disregarding Anya completely. When Slavik went to the store for an ingredient overlooked for their salad, Irina finally broke the ice:
“Happy now? You’ve manipulated your son against his own mother.”
“I never turned Slavik against you,” Anya retorted calmly. “In fact, I’ve always championed your relationship.”
“But now he won’t come when I ask!” Irina was outraged. “He claims to have plans with you!”
“Because he indeed has a life of his own,” Anya gently spoke. “Irina Georgievna, Slavik cherishes you greatly. But he’s a grown man, with a wife, a job, friends, and hobbies. He cannot abandon everything for you at the drop of a hat.”
“He previously did,” the mother-in-law muttered.
“And that was wrong,” Anya plucked up her courage to voice what she longed to say. “Not for him, not for you, and not for me. Slavik felt torn between us, constantly guilty towards you and towards me. Do you want your son to live in perpetual stress?”
Irina fell silent, but Anya noticed her words had given her mother-in-law pause.
“I’m not advocating for you to lose contact with Slavik,” Anya pressed on. “I merely desire a healthy family dynamic. One where we can occasionally spend time alone, and our holidays belong to us. Is that overly demanding?”
“Things were different in my day,” sighed Irina. “Family meant always being together.”
“Times have transformed,” Anya replied gently. “But one thing persists—we all love Slavik and wish him happiness.”
As Slavik returned from the store, he stumbled upon an unexpected tableau: his mother and wife seated silently at the kitchen table, engaged in conversation. Not a dispute, nor blame, but simply conversing.
Of course, that dialogue wouldn’t resolve every issue. Irina Georgievna didn’t transform overnight, nor did she cease to meddle in their lives. She still nurtured the belief that her daughter-in-law was demanding too much and that her son was insufficiently attentive. Yet, something vital shifted.
Six months post that ill-fated anniversary, Anya was in the kitchen preparing dinner when she heard the front door slam shut.
“I’m home!” Slavik’s voice echoed from the hallway.
“How did it go with Mom?” Anya inquired as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Not too terrible,” he planted a kiss on her cheek. “I helped her with her computer, fixed the faucet. She sends her regards.”
“Really?” Anya was taken aback.
“Well, not exactly regards,” Slavik smirked. “She said: ‘I trust your Anya hasn’t forgotten how much I love cabbage pies.’ But for her, that’s progress.”
They chuckled. While their relationship with Irina Georgievna remained far from perfect, it was gradually healing. Slavik learned to say “no” to his mother when necessary. He began to appreciate his time with his wife and defend their domestic space. Though reluctantly, Irina Georgievna began to accept the new dynamics.
“By the way, I was contemplating our sixth anniversary,” Slavik chimed, wrapping his arms around Anya. “Perhaps we could whisk away for a weekend? Just the two of us.”
“What about your mother?” Anya inquired with curiosity.
“She’ll manage just fine without me for two days,” Slavik replied confidently. “She has a new TV, a computer, and friends. I have a wife I wish to celebrate our anniversary with.”
Anya turned to her husband and embraced him tightly. She was uncertain about what the future held, how many more intricate situations involving Irina Georgievna would emerge. But at that moment, she was filled with joy. Joy because she genuinely felt their marriage had evolved into a true partnership, where emotions and needs were honored.
As for Irina Georgievna… well, she would always remain herself. Authoritative, accustomed to commanding and believing she knows best for her son. She might never embrace Anya as her equal, but perhaps she would learn to acknowledge their marriage and their right to their own life. And that was more than enough for Anya.